


Our Aligned Hearts

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Able to Fly!Jean, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Empath!Marco, Fluff and Angst, M/M, they still have 3dmg in this universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 13:38:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5092757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Most superheroes love their jobs, even small-time ones like the team that lives in Trost. The thrill of battle and saving civillains is what most of them live for.</p>
<p>In Trost, however, there is one superhero that hates his job. His name is Marco Bodt, and it's hard to enjoy helping people when you're an empath.</p>
<p>Suddenly, he meets someone that controls the storm of emotion and pain he faces every day, and he can't help but be instantly fascinated by the man that just walked into his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Aligned Hearts

Trost really wasn't all that bad, as far as cities go.

It was a moderately-sized Midwestern city, surrounded by farms and forests on all sides. It had a population of 398,758, according to the 2010 US census. It wasn't exactly a center of commerce, but it still was home to several small, successful businesses, and the local hiking trails in the forests were excellent places to spend a weekend camping and observing wildlife. At least, that's what it said on the brochures.

What the brochures  _didn't_ say was that while downtown and the surrounding suburbs were pretty, neat, and welcoming to visitors, the underbelly of the city--the cheap apartments and half-forgotten streets that lay at the edge of the shiny business district--was a place where the crime rates were through the roof. Most of the city's poorer residents lived in what was known as the Lower District. There you could find men and women alike travelling in groups in order to avoid becoming victims of yet another mugging, as well as solitary figures with switchblades hidden beneath their coats, standing at the corners of alleys, just waiting for someone to walk by. 

Stray cats and dogs wandered the winding streets of the Lower District, looking for easy meals in the open trash cans and black garbage bags stacked up in alleys. Homeless people clustered on the steps of the Trost Methodist Church at night. Most residents learned to look the other way; there was nothing to gain from acknowledging these huddled figures, waiting for the Church's daily handouts. Occasionally, one of these people would wind up dead, lying on the side of a remote road, often with knife or blunt trauma wounds. When this happened, the police would be called, the body would be cleaned up, and that was that.

The police didn't do much else; they focused their attention on the side of Trost that outsiders would actually pay attention to. What happened in the Lower District stayed in the Lower District. They would only make an effort to keep the murders to a minimum, but everything else wasn't really their problem. There were several clinics where mugging victims could go to get cleaned up, and most of these were nonprofit. Even so, the major city hospital was in downtown, and it was expensive. Many of the public service centers relied solely on donations, and so their supplies often left something to be desired.

The only major body of water was the Rose River, which had been plugged up just outside the border with a gigantic concrete dam. Most of the riverbed beyond the dam and the lake that it had created went into the sad, shallow little canal that ran through the city. Eventually that water would make its way to the Mississippi River, but not before it became clogged with refuse and litter from the many human settlements that it had passed. The lake was really the only place to go to fish or swim, and even then you had to keep an eye out for broken glass or bits of discarded metal that hadn't made it to the local junkyard if you weren't swimming at one of the public beaches.

Okay, okay. Trost was a shithole. But once you lived in the Lower District, there's little you could do to get out. 

But, even in the run-down District, there were glimmers of hope. That's where the vigilantes came in.

Almost every city had some; a group of people that stepped in when the local law enforcement wasn't enough to keep the streets safe, and many of them had members with superpowers. There were no radioactive spiders or secret aliens gaining powers from the sun; there were just people born with extraordinary abilities that they could learn to harness.

Officially, they weren't supposed to exist. Those with powers were considered a danger to society, and so many of them kept their abilities secret. Many of them found their "secret identities" thrilling, as if they were characters in a comic book. If they were caught, they would be forced to undergo surgery to receive power-suppressing implants, but a good number of them had a sense of duty too strong to ignore, and so they would head out in disguise, fighting against criminals both mundane and superpowered.

Trost only had one such group of vigilantes. Like most law officials, the Trost police didn't really care enough to stop them; as long as they didn't blow up too many buildings, they were free to do the police's job for them. Every so often, tied up, wounded people would wind up on the police station's doorstep, along with a written explanation of what happened. Again, the police didn't really mind; the reports were always true, and it kept themselves looking good in the eyes of the public.

Sometimes, small-time news outlets would enter what was unofficially known as the Middle District, a relatively safe neighborhood where those who were somewhat well off, yet not quite enough so to move to the Upper District lived, looking for the particular group of quote-unquote superheroes that spent so much time keeping it relatively safe. They could never find them.

What they didn't know was that this group of vigilantes had a makeshift hideaway in the basement of an apartment complex: 104th, Maria Avenue. There, hidden behind stacks of hoarded junk that belonged to God-Knows-Who, was a small, underground complex. None of them knew who had made it, but after discovering it, they had immediately settled in. To most of them, it was like a second home. To get in, one had to place their hand on a concealed scanner. It was the only technologically advanced thing about the complex; the rest was just a series of rooms, with a tiny kitchen, a bathroom, and a small infirmary that consisted of a cot and a first aid kit.

It was here that these superpowered individuals spent a lot of their time, coming and going as they pleased. Only one member lived in the apartment complex itself, on the top floor, overlooking the alley between the building and the next. His name was Marco Bodt, and he was the only one in the group of vigilantes that hated what he did. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy helping people--in fact, it was quite the contrary. His powers were just terrible.

The rest enjoyed patrolling the Lower District, looking for the chance to use the powers they were born with. In Trost, they didn't have to fear being subjected to power suppressing implants, and the thrill of their powers was enough to motivate most of them to do what they did.

That was life in Trost, where some were content with their lot in life, some loathed it, and most scraped by, letting the fact that a small population of superpowered individuals lived amongst them, keeping them safer when the streets became dark.

\---

Marco sighed and closed his laptop. It was one o'clock in the morning, and he hadn't even gotten halfway done with the rough draft of his latest project. His editor had told him he had two weeks to go in regards to this one's deadline, but even so, Marco liked to try and get it done as soon as possible. Not being able to power his way through a rough draft frustrated him. He wheeled his desk chair back and rubbed the heels of his hands over his eyes.

Being a writer had its perks--he could work from his apartment, for one thing--but it sure as heck was tiring. He spent hours hunched over his laptop, running on nothing more than cup ramen and coffee just so he can publish a short story for the back of a magazine that will surely be forgotten soon. Sometimes, he was barely able to pay the rent, and the few times he'd allowed himself to buy luxuries, he'd had to ration his food for a week. He'd had stories rejected, stories flop, and only a few ever actually take off. However, it was worth it. He could work at home, where he didn't have to go outside and adjust himself to the constant, unfamiliar barrage he always got when he was around people. He was accustomed to his apartment, and so he felt much more at peace there.

That's how it always was; he would stay at home, where he didn't have to feel so much, and he would stay in his own little world, where he didn't hate his powers with a burning passion like he usually did. He could get lost in his work, spending hours at his laptop, writing whatever would pay his rent. Then he would go out with the rest of his friends and help them when they went hunting--that was what they always called it when they patrolled the streets, looking for someone to fight, and it creeped Marco out to no end--and he'd have to endure his powers all over again.

Being an empath sucked.

He began to hear his neighbors below him talking as he pulled off his shirt, and he couldn't help but feel intrigued as to what. The voices were getting louder, and Marco let his guard down a little, letting the emotions of the people below seep into him. One of them was angry, and the other was frightened. The scared one had an underlying feeling of dread and anger; they were angry about being treated like this, but their fear overruled that. There was also some shame, buried deep amongst the other emotions. The angry one was furious, as well as feeling slightly betrayed.

_Rosalie was probably cheating on Matt again,_ Marco thought as he changed into his baggy pajama pants. He had no idea why they still lived together. When he had found out that his first boyfriend had been getting around, he'd kicked him out immediately. Whatever. To each his own.

The voices were getting louder still, and Marco once again put up his mental wall, blocking out the burning emotions swelling up from downstairs. He switched off the lamp on his nightstand and flopped down face first onto his bed, breathing in the musty smell of unwashed sheets as he let himself be lulled into sleep.

\---

It was a hunting night; every other day, the group of vigilantes, a group of young adults that didn't really give themselves a name, would go out and prowl the streets, zipping from building to building using contraptions that launched them through the air. Marco honestly felt that was the best part of being a vigilante; flying using wires and gas, feeling excitement emanating from his friends that he also shared. It was nice to feel his emotions genuinely syncing with others'. The rest of the hunts, however, were awful.

He yawned as the door to the base slid open, revealing the cramped hallway beyond. It had been a long day, and he wasn't looking forward to this at all. At least the kitchen had a coffee maker.

As he plodded down the hall, making a beeline for the kitchen where the blessed coffee awaited, a familiar face popped out from one of the other rooms.

"Hi, Marco!" Armin said, grinning.

Marco gave him a tired smile and a halfhearted wave.

"Are you up for tonight?" Armin asked. Marco could feel his concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Marco lied. "I just need coffee. I just got off the phone with my editor. She told me that she's cutting my deadline."

Armin began radiating sympathy. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be," Marco replied. "I can manage, and it pays my bills." He closed his eyes and reached out with his powers. There was boredom, excitement, contentment, and anticipation coming from somewhere nearby. "How many of the others are here?"

"Just Eren and Mikasa," Armin said. "But the rest should be here soon."

"Okay, just let me know when we're leaving," Marco said. "I'm going to get my coffee and suit up."

"Sounds good," Armin replied. He moved to go back to the living room, then paused. "Oh, by the way, we have a new guy with us tonight."

"What? Who?"

"Someone that just moved here," Armin explained, "He apparently lived here when he was little, and he's back now that he's done with college. I know you don't do well with new people, but..."

"I'll be fine, thanks for warning me," Marco said. He walked into the kitchen without waiting for Armin to say another word.

There, sitting on the counter, was the coffee machine. His salvation. He immediately set about making a cup, and he closed his eyes as he waited for the black liquid to fill the mug, not noticing the sound of the door opening.

"Hey, Marco!" said a loud, female voice from behind him. "I didn't think you were gonna show up tonight!"

Marco practically jumped out of his skin in surprise. He whirled around to see Sasha, leaning against the door frame, a box of Dunkin' Donuts munchkins in her hand.

"Don't  _do_ that!" he exclaimed.

"Sorry! I thought you felt me coming. Want a munchkin?"

"What kind?"

She opened the box and peered inside. "Okay, I've got glazed, chocolate, powdered..."

"I'll have a chocolate," Marco said.

She was across the room in a heartbeat, holding three out in her hand. "Here, you look like you need more than one."

Marco accepted them with a smile. "You know, sometimes I wonder if you're an empath, too."

Sasha laughed. He could feel both amusement and a small amount of sympathy coming from her. "As if! I'm gonna go hang out with Connie in the living room. Wanna come?"

"No thanks, I need to be alone for a bit."

"Okay, fair enough." She turned to leave and began to walk out, when Marco suddenly remembered what Armin had said.

"Hey, wait!" he called.

Sasha paused and looked over her shoulder, humming questioningly through the powdered munchkin in her mouth.

"Is the new guy gonna show up here, or...?"

Sasha swallowed her snack loudly. "I think we're gonna meet him outside," Sasha said. "Christa was gonna give him a suit and bring him over; he doesn't have his hand registered into the system yet."

"Okay," Marco said, relieved. He had at least a few more minutes before he had to feel another new person's emotions.

Behind him, the coffee machine beeped. Sasha gave him a salute as she walked out into the hallway, and Marco couldn't help but smile. He cared about his teammates, he really did. They were his friends, but...

But he envied them so much.

Marco set about pouring cream into his coffee, then took a sip, letting the hot liquid slide down his throat, enjoying the burn. He'd need energy for tonight, and coffee was his best friend whenever he had to hunt.

He continued to sip his coffee as he went into the storage room. There, they kept their suits and gear. Marco grabbed his and headed to the bathroom to change. He locked the door behind him, took off his clothes and folded them neatly, then set about putting his suit on.

They didn't have tight spandex suits like the heroes in the comic books; instead, they had baggy, rather plain clothes, made up from what they could find in their own wardrobes. Marco's consisted of baggy black pants, combat boots, a beige t-shirt, and a tan jacket that he had outgrown several years ago. It ended about where his ribcage did, but he felt that it made him look a little cooler that way. There was something familiar about the jacket, as well, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

The rest of the team had taken a liking to the short jackets, too, and had gotten each of themselves a pair. Marco supposed it was sort of a uniform that way, even if the rest of the suits didn't match. They each had masks as well, which he supposed did a good enough job of hiding their faces. Just covering the area around their eyes apparently did the trick.

He was lacing his shoes when he felt a great deal more people enter the base. He sighed, stood up, drank the last of his coffee, and went out to greet the others. Connie, Ymir, Reiner, Annie, and Bertholdt were standing in the living room, or what at least resembled one. It had a couch and a small TV. Good enough.

"Hey!" Reiner said. "I thought we might have had to wake you up again, Marco!"

Marco gave him a weak smile. "Are you ever going to let me live that down?"

"You slept through half a battle right outside of the apartment, so no, I won't," Reiner replied. He looked over at Armin, who had entered the room along with Eren and Mikasa. "Are we leaving now?"

"I'm waiting for Christa to text me," Armin said. "Then we can go."

"Okay, everyone go get suited up," Eren said loudly, his hands on his hips. Marco had no idea why he thought he was the group's leader, since they didn't really have one. "We're gonna start before the sun sets."

With that, they all scattered to go change into their suits, which left Marco standing alone in the living room. He sighed and plopped down onto the couch. He'd left his phone in his apartment, so he could only stare at the ceiling, counting the cracks in an attempt to entertain himself. Anticipation was thick in the air, and Marco could feel it mingling with his dread in a way that almost made him want to vomit.

Finally, it was time to move out. They had exited the base and were assembled in the main basement.

Armin crossed his arms and looked them all over. "Okay, so we're gonna go down to the south side tonight. There's been some rumors of guys with powers harassing people down there, and I think we should check it out. Agreed?"

There was a general murmur of agreement, and Armin seemed satisfied with that. "Okay, Christa and the new guy are outside. Let's roll."

They went out the back way, exiting the basement through a secluded set of stairs that opened up into the dark alley. Marco lagged behind, letting everyone else go first, as usual. It was a bit easier to block out people's emotions when they weren't acknowledging that he was there. He blinked as he stepped out from the dark staircase and into the pale, dimming light of the setting sun. Everyone else was beginning to climb the next door building, using their gear to propel themselves upwards. Marco followed suit. Once they were all together, Marco let himself join the rest of the group.

"So, you're the new guy, eh?" Ymir said. Marco could feel that she was unimpressed.

Marco reached out with his powers, trying to judge whoever was standing there. He couldn't see them since he was behind Reiner and Bertholdt, and so he could at least get a judge of the person based off their emotions. He could feel Christa, with her usual excitement before a hunt, and...

He frowned and reached out more, letting down all of his mental barriers. He did his best to ignore the others, trying to focus in on where the new person must be standing, but...

Nothing. He felt nothing.

He shouldered his way to the front of the group. He had to see this person for himself, if they were even there. Half of him was convinced that his teammates were pranking him. He found himself staring at an unfamiliar man standing beside Christa. He looked to be somewhat shorter than Marco, and he was lanky, with long legs that kind of gave him the appearance of a foal. His sandy blonde hair was styled in an undercut, and he had intense amber eyes. The man was slouching, his hands in his pockets, looking over the group as if he was trying  to intimidate them. Marco wasn't sure if that was what he was doing, because he couldn't feel anything coming from that man.

It was like his emotions weren't even there.

"Everyone, this is Jean Kirschstein," Christa said. "He's moving in tomorrow! And guess what? He's moving in to the same building as you, Marco!"

That drew everyone's attention to Marco, who immediately put up his walls again to save himself from their barrage of emotions. "That's, uh..." he said, still staring, wide-eyed, at the newcomer, "That's nice."

Christa began introducing Jean to the rest of the group, while Marco just kept trying to reach out to him, trying to feel anything. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Holy crap.

Ymir elbowed Marco, who flinched. "What're you staring at him for?" Ymir whispered. "You look look like you're scared shitless."

"I'm not scared," Marco whispered back.

Ymir just rolled her eyes.

"So, Jean!" Connie said, taking a step towards the new guy. "What can you do?"

Jean blinked. "Huh?"

"Your powers! What are your powers?"

"Oh," Jean said. "I, uh... I can fly."

Ymir snorted. "Is that it?"

"Yeah, that's it," Jean said defensively. "You got a problem with that?"

Marco was pretty sure that Jean was just putting up a front to try and intimidate the rest of them, but he couldn't tell.  _What's going on?_

Jean shifted nervously as an awkward silence settled over the group.

"Um, maybe we should explain what the rest of us can do...?" Bertholdt said quietly.

"Good idea," Reiner said, clapping him on the back so hard that Marco winced, feeling the sting against his own shoulders. "Me, I can harden my skin into a kind of armor."

"I'm a lot stronger than I look," Bertholdt said.

"I can phase through things," Annie said flatly.

"I'm telekinetic," Armin said.

"I can create and control fire," Ymir said.

Christa smiled. "I can teleport."

"I shoot ice out of my hands!" Sasha said.

"I can move extremely quickly," Mikasa said softly.

"I turn into a giant monster," Eren said.

"I can move air around," Connie said, "And no, that is  _not_ lame."

"Trust me, I've seen him suck all the air out of a guy's lungs once," Sasha said.

"I believe you," Jean said. He looked at Marco, who looked away immediately. This guy was weirding him out, big time. "What about you?"

"I'm... I'm an empath," Marco said.

Jean cocked his head like a curious puppy, which Marco had to admit was pretty adorable. "A what?"

Marco braced himself to answer, but Annie, thankfully, interrupted.

"I think we've had enough exposition," she said dryly. "Are we going to stand here all day, or are we going to get moving?"

"Yeah, okay," Armin said. "Alright, here's the plan: we're going to go down to the south streets and patrol a bit. Just keep an eye out for anything suspicious. If you see someone that looks like they have powers, confront them. Don't attack unless you're attacked first. Got it?"

There was a small chorus of "yes" from everyone.

"Alright," Eren said. "Let's roll."

\---

It was quiet on the street Marco was stationed at. He was perched on the roof of a pet store, his hands on the triggers of his maneuver gear. He reached out with his mind, searching for anything suspicious. Thankfully, there were no residential buildings on this street, so he didn't have to put up with anyone awake in their homes. He was so involved in this that he didn't notice the shadow creeping up behind him.

"Hey, whatcha doing?"

Marco squeaked in fear and nearly tumbled off the roof. He managed to catch himself in time and he whirled around. Jean was floating in front of him, looking startled.

"Don't..." Marco said breathlessly. "Don't do that. Ever."

"Wow, sorry," Jean said. He floated down until he was seated next to Marco. "Are your hunts always like this?"

"Yeah, sort of," Marco said. "Sometimes we go out during the day, but mostly we just look around for someone to fight. We try to keep ourselves as inconspicuous as we can."

"There's damn lot of you. Kind of hard to be stealthy."

"We, uh," Marco said, "We actually used to have others. Thomas and Mina. They got caught by the police and implanted. The procedure went wrong, though."

Jean grimaced. "Shit."

"Yeah. Shit."

Marco's stomach turned at the thought of his two friends, sitting in hospital beds, their hair shaved off, revealing a massive scar on their scalp. Their eyes wide and empty, staring at nothing. Their parents finally pulling the plug.

Still though, the thought of having a chip inserted just right, so that it did nothing but remove one's harmful, unwanted powers... Marco thought of one of the success stories: a woman who was a psychic, who cried tears of joy after waking up and no longer hearing the thoughts of those around her.

"What about that Eren guy, though?" Jean asked.

"Hm?"

"Doesn't he, like, turned into a monster? That sounds pretty noticeable."

"I've only seen him do it once. Trust me, him turning into a huge naked guy with pointy ears and giant teeth is  _not_ something we want happening during every hunt. Last time that happened, he knocked over a building."

"Damn," Jean said. "Why do you even bring him?"

"He fights well enough in his normal form," Marco said. "And it's hard to say no to a guy as determined as that. Besides, we need all the help we can get, even with our powers."

Jean leaned back and stared up at the stars, which were just visible through the glare of the city lights. "Must be nice."

"What?"

"It must be nice to use your powers," Jean said. "I've barely ever gotten to use mine."

"Yeah, I guess it's nice," Marco said. He sat down and drew his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. "I guess the rest of the team likes it."

"'The rest of the team?'" Jean echoed. "What, you don't?"

"I'm an empath," Marco said. "I can feel the emotions and pain of others. It's... it's not that great."

"Really?" Jean said. His face lit up. "What am I feeling right now?"

Marco inwardly groaned. "Come on, man, don't..." he froze, his eyes widening. Nearby, someone was excited. Thrilled, even. They were feeling anticipation, as well as an emotion that he couldn't name, one that meant that they were raring for a fight. Marco's throat went dry as he realized what that meant. "Oh crap," he murmured. He stood up. "Jean, get the others.  _Now_."

"What?"

"Something's happening," Marco explained. "Go.  _NOW_."

"Alright, alright! Geesh." Jean floated off the roof, and in an instant he was gone, vanishing into the darkness of the night.

Marco felt around with his powers, trying to discern where the feeling was coming from. To his surprise, he realized that the emotion had multiple sources; at least five.

_Oh gosh._

There was a clatter as hooks attached themselves to the roof. Armin arrived with the whirring of his cables, looking slightly out of breath. "What? What is it?"

"Over there," Marco said, pointing to the east. "At least five people. They aren't up to anything good."

Armin nodded. "Okay, the rest are on their way." He dug into the satchel on his side and produced a flare gun. Signaling was really the only way that the group could keep themselves organized. He raised the flare and fired. A bright, crackling red ball flew into the eastern sky, a column of red smoke in its wake. The rest of the group would be on their way soon.

"Lead us to them," Armin said.

Marco just nodded. He fired his cables, attaching them to a nearby building. He launched himself towards the feeling, doing his best to ignore the knot of dread in the back of his mind. Just focus on the target. Focus on that, and it'll be okay.

He heard the others behind him now; a chorus of whirring wires and hooks connecting to buildings. They arrived less than a minute in, and Marco felt his dread turn into full-on fear. The others, however, grew excited at the sight below them.

There were six people standing in an alley below. One of them was glowing, with blue flames flickering up their arms. The others were wielding guns. As the team approached, Marco saw the one on fire look up.

"There they are!" they cried out. Excitement flared up from the group, and Marco braced himself for the worst.

Gunfire pierced the air. Marco swerved to the right, ducking into the shelter of another alleyway. He heard the others launch themselves into the group below, and he quickly got to the roof to see what was going on.

Reiner had hardened his skin into thick armor and was trying to wrestle the gun away from one of the larger people. In the light of both Ymir and the other person's flames, Marco could see that they were all wearing matching baggy navy-blue clothes, obscuring their bodies completely. Marco tried to shield out the exhilaration, fear, and anger that were mixing together before him, creating an overwhelming swirl of emotion, and focused on his breathing, trying to get a feel for any weakness in the enemies.

"The one on fire has a bad leg!" He yelled down at his teammates. "The short one has a sore muscle in their hip!"

"Got it!" Sasha yelled back. A massive chunk of ice flew towards the fiery one, striking one of their legs and making them collapse, crying out in pain. Marco bit his lip as he felt the impact in his shin. 

_The pain isn't mine, focus on your lip, focus on you biting your lip, this pain is yours, focus..._

Something whizzed past him and sliced open his cheek. Marco reeled back with a yelp, clapping one hand over the wound left by the bullet. It was shallow, but it had begun to bleed profusely.  _Head wounds always bleed the worst_.

All of a sudden, someone was on top of him, grabbing him roughly by the shoulder and throwing him onto his back. One of the people had gotten onto the roof, and they were now pointing their rife straight at his face. Marco stared up at them, feeling their hatred pulse through him.

"The world doesn't need weak little fucks like you," they growled.

Marco grit his teeth, braced himself, and swept his legs to the side, knocking the person off their feet. He got up without a hitch and held up his fists into the fighting stance Annie had taught him so long ago. The other person had dropped their gun, and without even thinking about it, Marco kicked it aside and into the darkness. He focused on his pain.

The other person, who he assumed to be a man, got to his feet and lunged at him. He was clumsy, and Marco ducked underneath his fist, slammed his arm into their side, wrapped his arms around their chest, and threw the man aside. He felt his pain as he hit the ground, and Marco bit his lip again.  _Focus on your cheek and lip_.

The man was trying to get up again, and Marco didn't give him the chance. He knelt down, one leg on either side of the man's chest, and began punching him. His fists connected with the man's jaw, then his nose, then his cheek, and Marco could feel himself beginning to cry as he felt the blows he was raining down on the other man. The pain was beginning to be overwhelming. Below, in the alley, he could feel blows striking the others, and he couldn't tell who, but he could feel it, digging into his ribs, against his nose, searing up his legs, and then he was sobbing, and the man beneath him had stopped responding. Marco knew he wasn't dead, but still he got up and stumbled to the side, letting the man slip into unconsciousness. The pain emanating from him faded, but the pain of the others just got more intense.

He didn't know how far he managed to walk before he sank to his knees, wailing, tears streaming down his face, mingling with the blood pouring from his cheek. He fell forward, barely managing to catch himself before he landed flat on his face. Oh, God, it hurt so much.

Another gunshot, and he felt searing, blinding pain burn through his shoulder. That was enough to finally make him collapse, and he curled up on the ground, sobbing. He tried to put up his barriers, tried to separate himself from the pain that wasn't his, but it was all blurring together, and he must have received the bullet wound himself, because he could feel it, oh God, he could feel it.

Things had begun to quiet down below, and the pain was fading slightly. Whoever had the bullet wound was leaving, and Marco trembled as the pain lessened. Someone was approaching him, and Marco curled up tighter. He couldn't open his eyes, they surely must be swollen shut, he could feel the pain of them blackening and swelling. Several someones were now beside him, and they were talking, and he couldn't hear what they were saying. Beneath the pain, he felt a sickening sense of shame. Deep, deep shame, and he knew that it must be his, because he was here, crying on the roof, only slightly injured, lying here useless like he always did, because he was useless, and because his powers were useless.

The voices of the others were becoming clearer as the pain of whoever was fleeing faded away. Now the pain was bearable, now he only felt a few aches and bruises, as well as the cut on his cheek and the bite marks on his lip.

"...Hey, hey, it's okay, you're okay..."

"...Christ, I've never seen him get this bad..."

"...We shouldn't have brought him..."

Marco opened his eyes.

At first everything was blurry, but as he blinked away the tears, he saw his teammates clustered around him. Jean was floating off to the side, looking unsure as to what he should do. Most of the others looked concerned, with the exception of Annie and Ymir, who were hard to read, as always. At least, they would be hard to read if you weren't an empath and you couldn't feel that they, too, were worried about their useless teammate.

"I'm sorry," Marco squeaked, his voice cracking. This brought out another sob. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

"Shush," Christa said. She placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled at him reassuringly. She was worried and terrified. "It's okay, you helped."

"Yeah, you beat the shit outta the guy that came up here," Connie said. "His friends had to carry him off."

Marco laughed, and he had no idea why. In fact, it sounded almost like a sob. The concern flowing from the others was almost sickening.

"C'mon, we got them, let's get you home," Armin said.

Christa is the one that helped him stand up, and he leaned heavily on her, relying on her steady support. He braced himself for the familiar lurch of her powers as she transported him to the street, holding him still as he rode out the dizziness that teleportation brought. He took deep breaths and wiped at his face with one hand, disgusted at the mixture of snot, blood, and tears that coated it.

"I'm such a mess," he said in a soft, trembling voice.

"Trust me, those blue guys were worse," Mikasa said. She walked over to Marco's side and helped support him, taking some of his weight so Christa wouldn't have to. Marco allowed himself to be comforted by this.

The others had joined them by then, and he heard someone popping open a cap. He looked over his shoulder to see Bertholdt holding a familiar bottle filled with pale yellow paste.

"Thanks," Marco said. He reached out to take the bottle, but Bertholdt drew it back.

"Let me do it," he said.

Marco stood there patiently as Bertholdt rubbed the paste onto his cut lip and cheek. He felt his wounds burn for a second, then slowly begin to seal. He knew that he would have a scar for about a week before it faded completely. Great stuff, that salve.

"What is that?" Jean asked. He was clutching his left arm, which was dotted with several nasty-looking bruises. Marco flexed his own arm, apprehension building in his mind as he realized that his was completely painless. He couldn't even feel Jean's pain.

"We just call it salve," Annie said. "We have suppliers in Sina that get it for us."

"Can I have some?"

"It only works on cuts," Armin said.

Marco felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned his head to see Eren looking at him with pure sympathy in his green eyes.

"Let's get you home," Eren said.

\---

Only Jean and Christa had followed Marco as he stumbled up the staircase leading to his apartment. He only felt a bit of pain now, but he was exhausted beyond belief. He wanted nothing more than to lie down on his bed and sleep for a week. He felt sick with shame and embarrassment, and the fact that he could only feel Christa's worry was not helping at all. Jean was still a blank, and that had started to terrify Marco. Did the man not feel anything, and he was just faking it? If so, he was doing a great job. Marco was too tired to dwell on it.

"This is it," Marco said. "My apartment. I'll be fine now." Translation: leave.

"Alright," Christa said. "If... if you need anything, just text me, okay?"

Marco glanced over his shoulder as he unlocked his door and swung it open. Christa was looking at him sadly, her concern and exhaustion mingling into a miserable soup. Jean, however, looked incredibly uncomfortable.  _Welcome to being a superhero in Trost,_ Marco thought,  _You get to watch Marco Bodt break down during every fight._

"Yeah. I'll text you," he said.

"You did great today, Marco," Christa said. "I mean it."

"I know you do," Marco said. Without another word, he stepped into his apartment and slammed the door behind him. He leaned against it, waiting until he was sure that Christa and Jean were gone, before he headed off to the bathroom. It was time to wash the filth off him, and then go straight to bed.

At least in sleep, he felt nothing.

\---

The next afternoon, Marco and the others were seated around the dining room table. Another chair had to have been brought in for Jean, who was squeezed in next to Marco. Marco was able to tune out the others' soreness, much to his relief. In fact, they were oddly muted, and he didn't have to put much effort into ignoring them. He did his best to put the slight unease he felt at this change at the back of his mind and focus on the conversation. 

"So, the blue suits," Armin said, folding his hands under his chin. "I have no idea who those were. One of them had powers, though."

"Tell me about it," Ymir muttered. "If I wasn't pyrokinetic, I would have third degree burns everywhere."

"Are we just gonna call them 'blue suits?'" Sasha asked. "Because I think that 'fucking assholes' is a more accurate name."

Jean snorted at that, which drew everyone's attention to him. He cleared his throat, looking nervous at all of the sudden attention.

"Oh, uh, sorry," he said. There was an awkward pause, then he added, "Is that what this is always like? Do you always beat the shit out of people with guns?"

"That was the most dangerous fight I've ever been in," Mikasa said. "At least since I joined this team."

"We usually just get petty thieves and whatnot," Christa said softly. "We've never had to have the whole team involved in a fight like that."

"It was like something out of a comic book," Eren said, almost reverently.

Marco had to force himself to keep a straight face. "Are we sure that only one of them had powers?" he asked, "One of them got on the roof without any gear."

"True," Mikasa said. 

There was a lengthy pause.

"What were they even doing?" Jean asked. "It's like they were waiting for you guys."

"That's exactly what they were doing," Marco said. "They were excited in the way someone gets when they're eager for something to happen, and when they saw us, the excitement turned into a sort of triumph. They were glad that their waiting had paid off."

"Damn, you know all that from like, twenty minutes of being near them?" Jean was staring at him, wide-eyed.

Marco shrugged. "It comes with being an empath."

"How did they know about us, though?" Sasha asked, fear creeping into her voice.

"Word gets around, Sasha," Reiner replied. "Half of the city knows we exist."

"They knew that we'd be hunting that night, though," Sasha said.

"You guys know what this means, right?" Eren asked in a hushed voice, leaning forward. When everyone else just stared blankly at him, he groaned and explained. "We have  _enemies_ now."

"Eren..." Armin said.

"No,  _listen_ ," Eren interrupted. "They knew about us. They knew we were hunting. They attacked us. We're totally climbing the superhero ladder here. We're actually getting important enough to have enemies!"

"Eren, that isn't really a good thing," Armin said.

"Of course it is!" Eren said. He was emanating so much excitement that Marco winced. "We're gonna get into bigger fights, and we might even make it on the map! People are gonna know about us that aren't in Trost!" _  
_

"It will be harder to hide, then," Annie said.

Eren looked at her, confused. "So what?"

Marco glanced around the table, trying to read the others. It was getting harder, though. Their emotions were diluted, hard to pick out. It was as if something had put a screen in front of his powers, that blocked him out even when he wanted to use it. A nagging fear was forming in the back of his mind.

_Am I... am my powers getting weaker? Am I losing my powers?_

No one else seemed to notice Marco quietly panicking. They continued to half-discuss, half-argue about the importance of what happened last night, and Marco just shifted nervously in his chair, trying in vain to strengthen the connection he usually felt with others.

"So, Jean," Armin said, "Are you thinking of staying?"

"Hell yeah, I am," Jean said with a smirk. "I've never gotten the chance to use my powers like this. Like hell I'm gonna pass an opportunity like this up."

Reiner grinned. "Welcome to the team, then."

Jean opened his mouth, perhaps to boast, but he was interrupted by a loud buzzing from his pocket. He jumped slightly, startled, and then pulled out his phone. He looked down at the screen, sighed, and stood up.

"Shit, the moving van is here," he said. "I gotta go get everything set up."

"I guess we've discussed all we can for now," Armin said. "Want help with bringing your things upstairs?"

Jean shrugged. "Sure. Follow me." He headed out of the room, and most of the others stood up to follow him. Only Ymir, Annie, and Marco stayed behind.

As Jean and the others left the room, the odd veil that had fallen over Marco suddenly lifted, and his powers came back in full force. He winced and clutched at his head, forcing down the swirl of pain and emotions that flooded him at once. Annie and Ymir both looked at him, and he could feel their surprise and concern. He couldn't help but be amused of the fact that they still tried to hide how much they cared for the team.

"Marco, what the fuck?" Ymir asked.

"It's nothing," Marco said quickly, standing up so fast that he almost knocked his chair over. "I just... I'm going for a walk."

Annie raised her eyebrows. "You? Going outside?"

"Yes, I'm going outside," Marco said through clenched teeth. He was struggling to rein in his powers after they had hit him so strongly. Without waiting for the two girls to say anything, he hurried out of the room and into the basement. He had no intention of following Jean and the others, and so he went out the back exit.

The door swung open, and he breathed in deeply, enjoying the fresh air. Shoving his hands into his pockets, Marco set off towards the street, his mind reeling from what had just happened.

He saw the moving van in front of the apartment, as well as his friends gathered outside, and he turned and walked the other way, not wanting to be around them. For a moment, his powers felt muted again, but when he turned down the next block, they were back in full force. Marco's heart was pounding as he came to realize what that meant.

_It's Jean. My powers get weaker when I'm around Jean._

\---

He spent several hours at the local park, testing out his powers, making sure that they were completely functional. As the sun began to set, he got up, brushed some of the fallen leaves that had gotten stuck to his pants, and began to walk back towards his apartment. When he arrived, he saw that the moving truck was gone. Jean was probably in his own apartment by now, and so he went to the basement. He needed to test and see if it really was Jean, and not any of the others.

Only Reiner, Sasha, Armin, and Connie were in the base, and they were watching TV. It was some show about two brothers that Marco had never seen before, and he gave them a wave as he passed. Sasha grunted out what sounded like a greeting, though it was hard to tell due to the fact that her mouth was full of popcorn.

Marco stepped into the infirmary, which was more of a small room with a first-aid kit on a shelf. The team didn't exactly have a high budget. He leaned against the wall, probing the others' emotions with his powers. Armin was bored. Sasha and Connie were really into the show they were watching. Reiner was just enjoying hanging out with his friends; he didn't care about the show. Marco sighed. His powers were fine.

Still, though, he needed to test this with the others. Some more experimenting was in order.

\---

Two weeks went by. He began seeking the others out, taking every opportunity to hang out in the base while still keeping up with his work. His powers worked just fine until he was around Jean. Then, his powers became so weak he could barely feel them at all. Whatever Jean was doing, it was making Marco feel almost... normal. Marco couldn't tell if he was scared or thrilled by this, and so he continued to try and get near Jean whenever he was in the base, and he attempted to be as inconspicuous as possible about it. He would sit at the dining table and browse his phone when Jean was in the kitchen. He would sit in the living room when Jean was at the table. He would walk past Jean, just glancing at him out of the corner of his eyes as he felt his powers grow weaker.

One day, he worked up the nerve to be even bolder. Jean and Armin were discussing something in hushed tones on one end of the dining table, and so Marco sat at the other end, pretending to watch videos on his phone while sipping coffee. He knew he couldn't read Jean, and so he attempted to get around the odd barrier the other man had over him and reach out to Armin. He was able to get a faint trace of curiosity from him, and when he dared to glance at the two men sitting nearby, he was unsurprised to see Armin looking at him. Marco quickly turned his gaze away and stared at his phone.

After a while, Jean got up and left the room. Armin waited until he was gone before he approached Marco.

"Hey, we need to talk," Armin said.

Marco set his mug down. "About what?"

"Whatever it is you've been doing lately."

"I don't know what you're talking about." As Marco heard the door to the base shut, his powers returned, and he could feel Armin's curiosity and suspicion. He should've known that Armin would catch on.

"Come on, Marco, you and I both know that there's something going on with you," Armin said. "And we both know that it involves Jean."

Marco sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Fine. You caught me. I would ask if you were happy now, but I know you're not."

"...Do you want to talk about it?" Armin asked.

Marco glanced around. There were still a few of the others in the base, and he didn't want them to know about this. "Meet me in my apartment," he said as he got up from the table.

A few minutes later, he was closing the door behind Armin as the blonde stepped into his room. Armin looked around the room, obviously impressed.

"It looks a lot nicer than the last time I saw it," he said.

"I spend most of my time here, so I at least try to make it look nice," Marco replied. He walked over to the couch and sat down, motioning for Armin to join him.

"So, what, exactly, is going on with you?" Armin asked as he sank into the cushions. "I know you're up to something."

"It's... personal," Marco said. "I don't want to get anyone else involved."

"I won't tell a soul," Armin said.

Marco smiled. "I know you won't. It's about my powers."

Armin's interest flared as he raised his eyebrows. Marco sighed.

"It's about Jean, too. He... when I'm around him, I don't feel anything. He cancels out my powers."

Marco inhaled sharply as Armin's surprise spiked through his mind.

"What? Is that why you've been following him?"

"I haven't been  _following_ him."

"Marco, he was asking me why you aren't leaving him alone."

"Oh." Marco felt himself blush. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize to Jean, not me." Armin paused, then added, looking thoughtful, "You know, if you really want to go somewhere with this, you should try hanging out with Jean more. In a non-creepy way."

Marco raised his eyebrows. "What makes you think that I want to do that? Not being able to tell how someone feels is... weird."

"He can help you get used to it, then," Armin said with a shrug. "How about you go to his apartment right now? I told him that I'd send you over."

"Gee, thanks." Marco leaned back into the couch, staring up at the ceiling. "You know, even though I can read your emotions, I often have no idea what you're up to."

Armin smiled. "I'm just trying to help. Besides, I think that being around Jean helps you get control over your powers, then you'll open up a bit more."

Marco glanced at him. "What?"

"You're really reclusive," Armin clarified. "And I have a feeling that you would be a lot more outgoing if you had control over your empathy."

"You think so?"

"I know so," Armin said. He got to his feet. "I think you should go see Jean and apologize for being a bit of a creep. I'm sure he'll understand."

Marco laughed. "Eren keeps saying that Jean's a boastful prick."

"Well, he's not wrong."

Marco stood up, and together he and Armin headed towards the door. He swung it open, and then paused.

"...Thank you, Armin," he said quietly.

"Just go tell Jean the truth," Armin replied. He set off towards the stairs, and Marco watched him go.

After Armin had left, Marco sighed and walked the same way he had gone. He knew which floor Jean's apartment was on, and which number it was. It was time to confess.

\---

He waited anxiously outside Jean's door, wringing his hands as nobody answered. He raised his fist to knock again when the door suddenly swung open, leaving him with a clenched fist in front of Jean's face. Both Jean and Marco froze.

"You know, most people don't try and punch others in the face as soon as the door opens," Jean said dryly.

"Sorry, I was just going to knock again, and..."

"Whatever. You coming in or what?"

"Yeah. If... if that's okay." Marco could start to feel his face flush, and he inwardly berated himself for acting like an idiot.

Jean just shrugged and stepped aside. Marco was surprised at how neat Jean's apartment was; given the other man's personality, he assumed that he'd be a bit of a slob. Well, you learn new things every day.

"Your place is nice," he said.

"Thanks," Jean said as he walked towards the far end of the apartment. He had two chairs by the window there, and as he sat down in one, Marco crossed the room and sat in the other.

"I'm sorry if I was... you know, being weird," Marco said immediately.

"'If?'" Jean echoed incredulously. "Aren't you the mind reader? Shouldn't you have known how weird you were being?"

"I read emotions and pain, not thoughts," Marco said.

"You should have known that you were freaking me out," Jean said.

"That's the problem!" Marco exclaimed. "I  _didn't_ know! I didn't know, because for some reason you cancel out my powers."

There was a lengthy pause, during which Jean and Marco just stared at each other.

"What?" Jean finally said.

"I don't feel your emotions or pain," Marco said. "My powers get weaker when I'm around you. I was trying to follow you around because I needed to be sure."

"You're joking," Jean laughed. "I don't have any mind powers. I just fly. That's it."

"I believe you," Marco said. "But there's just something about you that stops me from feeling so much. It's... nice, I guess. Which is why I was tailing you so much, even though I was already sure."

"Great, so you've been tailing me because I make you feel good," Jean said. "Is that a euphemism for something?"

"No!" Marco spluttered. "Not at all!"

"Relax, I was just teasing you." Jean paused, then went on. "I gotta admit, you didn't leave an awesome impression on me. You looked kind of like the creepy quiet one, and then you had that fit during the fight..."

"Gee, thanks."

"And then you followed me around while acting like I wouldn't notice. But here... talking to you isn't really half bad. Even if you're still being kind of creepy."

Marco laughed. "Actually, I was thinking... I don't really know you all that well. And if we're gonna be working together, don't you think we should hang out a bit?"

Jean raised his eyebrows. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

"No, I'm not!" Marco said, blushing. "I just want to hang out. Maybe that could make up for me being weird."

Jean sighed. "Sure, if you want. I'm not doing anything this afternoon. What about you?"

"Same. Want to come over? I have a Wii U."

"If you have Smash Bros, then I'm in," Jean said.

Marco smiled and stood up. He held out his hand, which Jean just stared at. "I think we got off on the wrong foot," Marco said, "So let's start over. It's great to meet you, Jean."

Jean took his hand and gave it a brisk shake. "Nice to meet you too, weirdo."

\---

An hour later, Marco was standing in front of his bathroom mirror, holding two shirts in his hand. He pursed his lips as he looked them over. Should he dress casually, or should he be more formal? What did you even wear when hanging out with people? It had been so long...

"Relax," Marco told himself. "It's not a date."

He opted to not change out of his old Team Fortress 2 t-shirt. Changing clothes just to hang out and play Smash Brothers would probably be bizarre. He still paced around his apartment nervously, and he had almost worked himself into a nervous frenzy by the time there was a knock at the door. He swung it open, and was relieved to see that it was actually Jean standing out in the hall. He had half expected Jean not to show up.

"Come on in," Marco said.

Soon they were both seated on Marco's couch. Marco had the GamePad, while Jean had a regular controller. Between them were two bottles of Sprite and a bowl of potato chips.

"I don't mind if you get potato chip grease on my controller," Marco had said. "I can always just wipe it off."

Marco fidgeted nervously as he started up the game. Jean was staring intently at the screen, and Marco couldn't help but look him over. He had this relaxed air about him, and Marco didn't need his empathy for that to soothe him. He looked very at home here, in the apartment of someone that was only an acquaintance, but Marco didn't mind. His lack of powers while he was around Jean had long since stopped scaring him. It made him feel like a normal person for the first time in sixteen years.

"Okay, I'm picking Mewtwo," Jean said. "Wait... you're gonna play as Wii Fit Trainer? Seriously?"

"What? What's wrong with that?" Marco asked.

"Dude, Wii Fit Trainer  _sucks._ "

"She does not!"

"Whatever. I say we do Final Destination."

Marco stuck out his tongue. "Boring."

"You can choose next time!" Jean said, looking exasperated.

They ended up playing on Final Destination, and Jean thoroughly kicked Marco's ass. Marco hadn't managed to knock him off the stage once, and he groaned as the results popped up on the screen.

"I told you Wii Fit Trainer sucks," Jean said as he took a swig of soda.

"I was going easy on you," Marco replied. "Best two out of three?"

"You're on."

\---

Two out of three turned into three out of five, then four out of seven, and so on. Before Marco knew it, four hours had gone by. The chips and soda were both long gone, and Marco's stomach reminded him how late it was as it growled particularly loudly.

"Oh crud," Marco said, "It's dinner time. I guess you should head back, right?"

"Eh, I don't feel like cooking. There's a McDonald's down the street; wanna just grab something from there?"

Marco stared at him. "Wait, you mean together?"

Jean grinned. "Yeah, like friends do."

"You think we're friends?"

"Dude, no one else will put up with me for four hours straight, so I guess you count as a friend. 'Sides, us superheroes gotta stick together."

Marco laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know, I'm a pretty lame superhero."

"You have powers and you help people, that's good enough," Jean said.

"Anyway, I don't really like to eat out," Marco said. "There's too many people. Too many emotions. Last time I went to get fast food, one of the employees there was on her period, and..."

"I get the idea," Jean said. "But you said that your powers don't work around me. If we go together, what's the problem?"

Marco gawked at him. "You... you really want to go out somewhere? With me?"

Jean shrugged. "Why not? Eating fast food alone is lame, anyways."

"You've got me convinced," Marco said with a laugh. "Wanna go now? My stomach won't stop yelling at me."

"Same here. Let's go."

\---

"So I there I was, eleven fucking years old, clinging for dear life to my bedpost as my mom was coming upstairs. I couldn't let her see me fucking floating, so I had to pull myself towards the floor and kinda angle myself so it looked like I was standing, right? And so she came in and was like 'what's wrong, Jean?' and I had to act like I wasn't trying to keep myself from floating towards the ceiling. Anyway, I managed to get her out of the room, and after like an hour I stopped floating and fucking collapsed onto the floor. I managed to work out how to control it pretty quick, though. It took me forever to figure out how to do anything other than float, though."

Jean spoke quietly so they wouldn't be overheard, though that wasn't much of an issue in a McDonald's that was completely empty aside from them and the employees. Marco appreciated the effort, and he nodded, listening intently to Jean's story. Swallowing his mouthful of cheeseburger, he asked, "How'd you manage to hide it, though?"

"I only flew when no one was around," Jean explained. "Like, in the middle of the night. I lived in the suburbs of Trost, and when I moved I ended up in some house in the middle of the woods, so it didn't really matter all that much." He popped a french fry into his mouth, and then nodded at Marco. "What about you?"

"Oh, my powers started showing themselves when I was nine," Marco said. "It was the middle of recess, and this one kid in my grade--I can't remember his name for the life of me--he was trying to climb on top of the monkey bars. Probably to impress everyone. Anyway, I suddenly started feeling excitement that didn't belong to me, because I was actually really nervous about it, and when the kid fell and broke his arm, I started screaming. See, I felt my own arm break, except it was fine. So he went to the hospital, I went to the nurse, and she said that I was just imagining it. I could feel how uneasy she was, and I'm pretty sure that she suspected what was going on, because she let me go home early. I refused to come out of my room, and it took me forever to get used to it enough for me to go outside of my house. My mom said that I was having 'mood swings,' and she got me stabilizers, but they didn't do anything since the emotions I was feeling didn't belong to me. So, yeah. I've been dealing with that ever since." _  
_

"Damn, your powers suck," Jean said.

"No kidding."

"Why do you agree to go on hunts if it hurts so much?" Jean asked around a mouthful of french fries.

Marco shrugged. "I guess I like helping people. Besides, I don't think I could leave the others to do it without me, even if I'm basically useless. I'm good at finding people."

"I can tell." Jean wiped his hands on a paper napkin. "Whew. I am  _stuffed_. Want to head back?"

"Sure," Marco said. "Next time, food will be on me, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Come on, let's go back to your place; I left my jacket there."

\---

"Bye, Jean! I'll see you tomorrow!" Marco called as Jean headed towards the stairwell.

Jean waved over his shoulder, and Marco waited until he'd gone before ducking back inside and slamming his door shut. His powers began to come back as Jean got farther away, but Marco payed them no mind. He was too caught up with whatever he was feeling.

He liked Jean. He liked Jean a  _lot_. He felt safe around Jean, and even without his powers he could tell that it was mutual. That was the best afternoon he'd had in a while, and he had gone out in public and enjoyed himself. He couldn't remember the last time that had happened. Marco walked into his room and collapsed onto his bed, burying his blushing face in his pillow.

He'd only hung out with Jean  _once,_  and he was already acting like a schoolgirl with a crush. Marco rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, cursing himself for how stupid he was being. Jean probably only thought of him as a friend, anyway.  _  
_

Still, though...

Marco felt as if he knew Jean after only a day. He felt as if they were connected, somehow, on a level that was more than intimate. Which was stupid, because that was how he had felt with his first boyfriend, and look at how  _that_ had turned out. And maybe Jean was straight.

He couldn't help but imagine Jean's hand in his, the other sliding up his shirt, gripping him tightly as they pressed against one another. He imagined Jean's lips meeting his own, and maybe a little tongue...

"Crud," Marco muttered.

He was  _not_ letting himself get a boner over a guy he'd only known for two weeks.

By the time Marco had gotten dressed into his pajamas and settled down under his covers, though, those fantasies had gotten stronger, and a lot lewder. He woke up the next morning with Jean's name on his lips and a rather large tent in his pants.

Christ, he was in deep.

\---

They spent a lot of time together after that. Most of it was just hanging out, enjoying each other's company while doing nothing in particular. Jean sometimes urged Marco to leave his apartment with him, and Marco happily agreed. Having someone to stabilize his powers made it so that he could go out and actually enjoy himself in public for the first time in years. Not to mention he enjoyed doing all these things, visiting parks, just going on walks, going to "pretentious coffee shops" (according to Jean) was a relief after spending so long hiding from the effect the world had on him. Marco was finally happy.

This, of course, only made his crush worse.

Several weeks after Marco had first realized his attraction for Jean, he was suddenly stopped in the hallway and told by Christa that Jean wanted to tell him something. And when pressed he had only said that it was 'something he was working on' and refused to elaborate. Marco had managed to force his shameful fantasies out of his mind for the time being, and he felt completely at ease as he knocked on Jean's apartment door. Surprise suddenly flared from the other side, which made Marco frown. Was he suddenly able to feel Jean's emotions now?

The door swung open, revealing Jean and Armin. Marco stared, utterly confused.

"Am I... interrupting something?" he asked.

"No, I was just leaving," Armin said. As he shouldered his way past Jean, Marco heard him whisper, "Remember what we talked about."

Jean nodded, and Armin left the two of them, leaving them standing awkwardly at Jean's door.

"Uh, come in," Jean said.

Marco closed the door gently behind him. "So, what's this thing you wanted to show me?"

"Okay, uh, come over here," Jean said. "It's in my room."

_Oh gosh what if it's his dick_

"Okay," Marco said with an innocent smile.

He was stunned at how messy Jean's room was compared to the rest of the apartment. The bed was unmade, with the covers half on the floor. There were art supplies scattered around the room, and several easels were against the wall. They were beside the windows, and Marco couldn't really see what was on them through the glare of the sunlight.

"Um, okay, it's over here," Jean said. He walked towards the easels, flipped on a light switch, and then drew the blinds. As Marco's eyes adjusted to the change in light, he froze when he saw what was on the largest canvas.

"Is that me?!" he said.

"Uh... yeah. It's you." Jean was blushing so hard he looked like he was about to spontaneously combust.

It was a portrait of Marco from the shoulders up. Painting Marco was facing slightly to the left, looking at the viewer out of the corner of his eyes. He was smiling slightly, his lips pulled back just enough to reveal a sliver of white teeth. Marco stared, stunned at how accurate the portrait was.

"But why?" was all that Marco could think to say.

Jean ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. "It's... yeah, okay, it's fucked up. We only hung out once, and... I thought you'd make a good model, okay?" He then muttered something that Marco didn't catch, but whatever it was, it made Jean blush even harder.

"I'm... flattered," Marco said. "But... did you use a photo, or...?"

"It's from memory," Jean said.

"This is really good," Marco said, taking a step closer to the canvas that bore his likeness. "This is  _amazing_. Where did you learn to paint like this?"

"I've always liked drawing," Jean said. "And it turned out I like painting, too. I wanted to be an illustrator, but work has been hard to find, so I take commissions. I also, uh, work at a hardware store nearby. I have weekends off. I know we never really talked about it..."

"Can I see more of your work?" Marco asked.

Jean looked surprised. "Um, yeah. I've got some over here..."

He walked over to what looked like a closet. Several canvases and pieces of paper were leaning against the wall there, and he began rearranging them so that Marco could see them better.

"This is a still life," Jean said, showing Marco a sketch of a broken glass bottle. "I found it while I was on a walk back in college and I thought it looked cool, so I swept it up and brought it home. This," he said, pointing at a painting of a cobblestone street lined with brick buildings, "Is from a town I visited once while I was on vacation. I like doing portraits, though. I know it's weird to draw pictures of people I meet, but..."

"Do you have pictures of the others?" Marco asked.

"N-no. Just you."

"Oh." Marco began to feel a giddy sort of hope blooming in his chest, and he began to wonder that this maybe meant...  _Nope. You're probably wrong. Stop it._ "You're a really good artist, Jean. I mean it. I think you really could make it as an illustrator."

Jean smiled sheepishly. "Thanks."

"No, really! Do you think you could paint something for me? I'd pay you."

"What?" Jean said, his voice squeaking a little.

Marco smiled reassuringly. "I love your art, Jean. Would you be willing to make me some?"

"Y-yeah," Jean said. He laughed nervously. "Man, that's the first time  _that's_ happened."

"What?"

"I show someone my art and they immediately want one."

Marco grinned. "There's a first time for everything."

Jean laughed again, and then said, "Hey, wanna watch TV or something? I mean, I could listen to people complementing my art all day, but..."

"Nah, I get it. I'll let you keep the remote."

\---

They were halfway through a marathon of Seinfeld when an alarm on Jean's phone went off.

"Oh, shit," he said. "It's gotten late."

"Huh?" Marco looked outside; sure enough, it was pitch black out there. "Well, look at that. I guess I should head home, huh?"

"No!" Jean yelled, startling Marco so much that he jumped. "Sorry, I mean... no. I've got something I want to show you. Let's go to the basement."

"Um, okay," Marco said, utterly confused. "Why?"

"Because we need to put our suits on for this."

"Are we hunting?" Marco asked, alarmed.

"No! Just... I'll explain in a bit, okay?"

Marco sighed and followed Jean out the door. They were silent as they walked downstairs and into the dimly lit basement, and Jean only spoke once they were inside the complex. 

"Okay, so," he said, "I want to show you something, but involves my powers. So put your suit on so we don't get found out."

"Okay, okay," Marco said, laughing softly. "I might as well humor you."

Jean blushed again. "Just go put your suit on!"

Marco went and did as he said, still smiling. As he was putting on his jacket, he heard Jean having a hushed discussion with someone just outside the door.  _Is it Armin again? What is with him and Jean?_ _  
_

Marco opened the bathroom door quietly and stepped out, getting a quick glimpse of Jean stuffing something into his jacket pocket. Armin was standing next to him and holding a pair of scissors. Reiner and Bertholdt were down the hall, and Reiner looked like he was barely stifling laughter. Jean looked up as Marco approached.

"Please tell me you didn't see anything," Jean said.

"See what?" Marco replied.

"Okay, good," Jean said. "Come on. And don't bring your maneuver gear; I'm gonna show you what it's like to fly for real."

Marco stared at him, alarmed, but before he could say anything, Jean grabbed his hand and started pulling him towards the door. As they passed Reiner, he clapped Jean on his back.

"Go get 'im, tiger," Reiner said, grinning.

"Fuck you," Jean muttered.

Marco gave Reiner an apologetic look as he was pulled out of the base, and he could've sworn he saw Bertholdt slip Reiner a five dollar bill.

\---

"Okay, grab on," Jean said.

Marco stared at him. They were standing in the nearby park, completely alone. The moon was full, and Marco could see Jean clearly in the silver light. The cool night breeze was ruffling Jean's hair and making fallen leaves swirl about their feet. Jean was holding out his arms expectantly, and Marco didn't need his powers to tell how excited he was.

"Grab on to what?" Marco asked.

" _Me,_ dummy," Jean said, rolling his eyes.

Marco's throat went dry as he did as Jean said. He wrapped his arms around Jean's chest as if he was giving him a hug, and he could feel Jean's muscles through his clothes. Jean was lanky, but not scrawny. Marco hoped that the darkness and moonlight would do a good job of hiding how red his face must be.

"Okay, you holding on tight?" Jean asked as he wrapped his own arms around Marco. "Alright, let's fucking do this."

"Jean, this is a really bad ideaaaAAAAAAHHH!" Marco began to scream as the ground suddenly fell away, leaving him dangling in midair.

"Relax, I got this!" Jean said, "C'mon, I'm gonna show you how nice everything looks from the sky."

Marco didn't reply; he was too busy clinging onto Jean for dear life. Jean flew them towards downtown, and Marco just stared at the ground, his heart hammering so hard it felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. The wind was buffeting both of them, but Jean didn't seem to mind at all. Jean kept his arms around Marco, but that wasn't reassuring at all. All Marco could think of was how high up they were and how the only thing keeping him from becoming a red smear on the pavement was his and Jean's grip on each other.

"Isn't this great?" Jean yelled over the sound of the wind. They were still rising, and as they approached downtown, Marco realized that they were about to level out with some of the taller buildings. Jean looked completely carefree up here.

"JEAN, I AM NOT WEARING MY MANEUVER GEAR, I AM HOLDING ON FOR DEAR LIFE, AND THIS IS FUCKING TERRIFYING," Marco screamed.

"Oh." Jean looked disappointed, and then his face lit up once more. "Hang on, we're almost there."

Marco didn't even bother to ask what he meant. They flew through the sky, weaving through the skyscrapers, and Marco just stared at the countless shining lights below. It was hard to believe that there were people down there, normal people going about their business, when he was flying above them, completely and utterly scared out of his wits. Finally, they began to slow down, and Jean leveled out in front of the tallest building. Marco was trembling so hard he was sure that he would shake himself to bits. They landed softly on the roof, where the walls lining the edges took the brunt of the howling wind, and Marco collapsed the moment Jean let go.

"Whoa! Hey, are you okay?" Jean said, kneeling down to the trembling wreck that had been a perfectly fine Marco Bodt just a few minutes ago.

"That was..." Marco couldn't finish. It was terrifying, it was horrible, and it was  _amazing._ He had been  _flying_. "Wow."

"Told you," Jean said, grinning. "C'mon, get up. I gotta show you something."

"I can't," Marco moaned. "My legs feel like they're made of pudding."

"Stop being a baby and get up," Jean said.

Marco eventually got his trembling under control and unsteadily got to his feet. He leaned heavily against Jean as he staggered towards the edge of the roof. He peeked over the wall, staring down at the city below them.

"This is incredible," Marco said. "I mean, it's terrifying, don't get me wrong. But it's gorgeous."

"Flying is great," Jean said. He started floating, as if to demonstrate his point. "Seriously. I can't think of a better way to travel."

"I can think of several," Marco said.

"Shush. I brought you up here to show you something." Jean began fishing in his pocket, and Marco stared as he pulled out something shiny. "It's a locket!" Jean said. "I was thinking that your powers are awful, but you don't feel them when you're around me. So, if you have a piece of me always, then you don't have to feel them! Genius, right?"

"'A piece of me?'" Marco echoed. "Jean, what...?"

Jean popped the diamond-shaped locket open, revealing something taped to the inside. Something that looked like several strands of...

"Is that your  _hair_?!" Marco asked.

"Yeah, pure, concentrated Jean Hair. It's part of me, so it'll shield you. At least a bit. I dunno, I asked the others about it, and they mostly just thought I was being weird."

"Jean, this is really,  _really weird,_ " Marco said. "You're giving me  _hair_."

"A locket with hair," Jean insisted. "Come on, just try it!"

Marco accepted the locket, looking at it as if it might burst into flames in his hand. "Jean, I don't..."

"Put it on!" Jean said.

Marco sighed and did as he said, slipping the locket over his head. It settled around his neck, and it really was gorgeous; the lights of the city danced across it with every move Marco made, and the fine silver chain glittered with silver moonlight. It was lovely. Except it had hair in it.

"Jean, this is messed up," Marco said.

"Okay, I know, I just..." Jean trailed off and sighed. He walked over to the edge of the roof and leaned against the wall, staring out at the night sky. "I just wanted to help you, okay?"

Marco joined him, trying to stand as close as he could without being too weird. "I understand," he said. "I'll try it, okay? Heck, it might even work."

Jean grinned. "It fucking better. Otherwise I'll look like a goddamn idiot in front of everyone."

Marco laughed. "I'm pretty sure you already do."

"God, you can be such a  _dick_ sometimes."

"Relax, I'm just teasing you."

They were silent for several moments, and Marco just listened to the sounds of the city. Even so late, there was constant activity. Cars and buses trundled from place to place, people were walking the streets, somewhere below, someone was blasting music. It reminded Marco of why he moved out here in the first place; cities were full of people and emotion, but they were alive in a way that he couldn't resist.

"You know," Jean said. "When I got here, I asked some of the others about you. Christa said that you were really shy. I don't think you are." Upon noticing the look on Marco's face, he added, "No, seriously! You opened up to me so quickly. That's why I want to help you. You seem so  _happy_ about not having to deal with your powers. And... if this locket can help, then you don't need to cling to me in order to feel normal."

"What if I want to?" Marco asked before he could stop himself.

"Wait, what?"

Marco looked away from Jean's startled face. "Nothing. I didn't say anything."

"I heard you." Slowly, Jean moved closer to Marco, so they were shoulder-to-shoulder. "Do you think that I'm bothered by that?"

Marco gaped at him. "Wait, what?"

"I like you, Marco," Jean said. "I don't know. We met, like, a month ago. But still... I feel... connected to you. Christ, I know it sounds dumb, but..."

"It  _is_ dumb," Marco agreed. "It's like something out of a cheesy romance. But I feel it, too." He paused, then added, "You know, you can be remarkably astute sometimes."

Jean snorted. "No, I'm not."

"You're better with people than you think you are," Marco said.

"Whatever."

There was yet another awkward pause.

"So..." Jean said. "What now?"

"Hm?" Marco asked.

"We both just admitted that we like each other," Jean said. "Hell, I started feeling it when I saw you."

Marco raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"Yeah. I saw you, and it was like I  _knew_ you. I didn't really notice it then, but thinking back on it now... I wanted to know you. That was why I let you into my apartment then. That was what I kept asking Armin about."

"That might be why I kept stalking you, even after I was sure of the effect you had on my empathy," Marco mused. "Maybe we both felt it. You know," he added, "I've never felt anything like this. Sure, I was infatuated with my first boyfriend, but I didn't feel like this with him. I just... I want to know you, too."

"So, what do you say? Should we start knowing each other?" Jean asked with what he probably thought was a suave grin.

"If that's a euphemism, I am going to jump off this building," Marco said flatly.

"No, it wasn't."

"Good. Jean?"

"What?"

"Thank you for giving me this locket," Marco said, smiling. "Creepy hair and all."

Jean gave him an awkward smile. "No problem."

"Now, let's get off this roof before I throw up."

\---

By the time Marco got back to his apartment, he felt as if he was the one that could walk on air. He was humming, thinking of how he and Jean had flown back--much lower to the ground that time--and of the creepy locket around his neck. He was thinking of how it felt to hold on to Jean like that, of how it felt when they had landed back in the park, still embracing each other. Of how the others back in the base had whispered as Marco and Jean changed back into their regular clothes and went back to their respective homes, and how he felt nothing but his own joy, and...

Wait.

Marco froze, staring down at the locket. He only felt the barest trace of the usual storm he had to resist. He took it off, and he was immediately flooded by the feelings and pain of everyone nearby. Marco put it back on, and it instantly stopped.

"Holy crap," Marco breathed. He ran to where his phone was, still sitting on his desk. He scrolled through his contacts and tapped on one name in particular.

 

**To: Armin**  
**From: Marco**  
ARMIN YOU KNOW ABOUT THE CREEPY HAIR LOCKET RIGHT

 

**To: Marco**  
**From: Armin**  
Um, yes. I assume that Jean gave it to you while you both were out? Why are you typing in all caps, anyway?

 

**To: Armin**  
**From: Marco**  
IT WORKS. THE LOCKET WORKS. I BARELY FEEL ANYTHING WHEN I'M WEARING IT

 

**To: Marco**  
**From: Armin**  
Holy shit.

 

**To: Marco**  
**From:** **Eren**  
dude armin just told me wtf are you really being shielded by horse hair????

 

**To: Eren**  
**From: Marco**  
It's Jean's hair, not a horse's? Wth Eren

 

**To: Marco**  
**From: Armin**  
Ignore Eren. He's being stupid. This is amazing, Marco! Will you wear it for the hunt tomorrow night?

 

**To: Armin**  
**From: Marco**  
Heck yes I will. I might actually be useful for once

 

**From: Armin**  
**To: Marco**  
You were useful before. Don't beat yourself up.

 

**From: Eren**  
**To: Marco**  
yeah marco you always know where to hurt someone and youre great at finding bad guys with this youre gonna be like double useful (im reading over armins shoulder fyi)

 

**From: Marco**  
**To: Eren**  
If you say so Eren

 

**To: Marco**  
**From: Eren**  
i do say so and wow horseface turned out to actually be useful for something

 

**To: Eren**  
**From: Marco**  
Stop being rude Eren

 

**To: Marco**  
**From: Eren**  
whoops sorry i forgot hes your bf

 

**To: Eren**  
**From: Marco**  
WTH EREN

 

**To: Marco**  
**From: Armin**  
Everyone knows, Marco...

 

**To: Armin**  
**From: Marco**  
I AM TURNING OFF MY PHONE NOW GOODNIGHT

 

**To: Marco**  
**From: Eren**  
dude its not embarrassing i always knew youre into dudes i just thought you had better taste

 

**To: Marco**  
**From: Armin**  
I thought you guys had made it official tonight.

 

**To: Marco**  
**From: Eren**  
marco?

 

**To: Marco**  
**From: Armin**  
Are you still there?

 

\---

Two nights later, Marco and Jean were at the park, alone at night. They were at the swing set, and Marco was sitting idly on one of the seats, the locket dangling around his neck and shining in the light of the streetlamps. Jean leaned against the support poles and stared out into the night, his face unreadable. The previous night's hunt had come up with nothing, which had relieved Marco to no end. He wanted to get used to the protection Jean and the locket provided him before he had to enter another fight.

In a couple of days he would have to go to Sina in order to get another set of maneuver gear. The Scouts never did say where they got the salve or how they made so much supplies, but Marco figured that it wasn't worth asking. When Marco had asked Jean to come with him, the other man hadn't hesitated in saying yes.

"So," Jean asked. "What's Sina like?"

"Huge," Marco said. "Much bigger than Trost. The Scouts have a pretty powerful presence there, though the public don't like them all that much. They have a tendency to break a lot of things when they use their powers."

"And the police don't like that, I bet."

"Yup. But the things they fight in Sina are a lot tougher than the small-time stuff we deal with here. Their powers are a lot stronger, too. I don't suppose you've heard Eren going on about them?"

"Nah, Eren and I usually argue over other stuff. Why? He likes them that much?"

Marco laughed. "He hero worships them. It's kind of funny, really. I know that he wants to join them more than anything, but he's stuck here. Besides, he isn't going to go anywhere without Armin and Mikasa."

"Yeah, that sounds like him." Jean stared up at the sky and sighed. "You know, I'm glad I met you. You're one of the few people that actually put up with me."

"Oh, come on, that's not true," Marco said.

"I mean it!" Jean insisted. "Everyone else thinks I'm a huge prick."

"They're right," Marco said.

Jean stared at him, looking stunned and offended. Marco cleared his throat.

"Okay, let me clarify. You're a prick, but only on the surface. You're a weak person that makes an effort to appear strong, and that makes a lot of people dislike you."

"You're really blunt, you know that?"

"I'm just being honest. But I can see through that, even without my powers. You're a good person, Jean," Marco said. "And I'm glad you're on my team."

Jean gave him a lopsided grin. "Is it weird that I'm not really surprised that you said that?"

"No, it's not weird," Marco said. "I guess it's something that people expect me to say."

"It's not that." Jean crossed his arms and looked Marco over, his expression unreadable. "I just feel... God, what's the word... it's like I just click with you. I've never felt so at home with someone before."

"...Really?"

"Yeah. You're like the first person I've ever felt completely comfortable with. It's like we're on the same wavelength or something."

Marco furrowed his brows. "...Huh."

Jean looked away awkwardly. "Yeah."

"That might be why I can control my powers around you."

"What?"

"We're comfortable around each other. I don't have to be so guarded around you. When I'm with you, I feel... safe. Is that odd?"

"Dude, I literally just said that I feel the exact same way."

Marco laughed again. "I know. I guess I'm just being stupid."

"We're both being stupid," Jean said, grinning.

Marco paused, unsure of whether or not to admit what was on his mind, before he finally blurted out, "I was beginning to consider getting implants before I met you."

Jean's eyes widened. "No shit? Why?"

"My powers sucked, Jean. I couldn't go to the grocery store without nearly having a breakdown. You saw what hunting was like. I was about ready to waltz right into a hospital and let them shove some metal into my brain just to get it to stop, even though I knew the risks. Now, even when you're not around, I'm able to handle it." He smiled. "Thank you."

Jean exhaled loudly through his nose. "Don't ever think anything like that again."

"I won't."

They sat together in silence for a while, listening to the breeze rustling through the trees. Fallen leaves drifted past them, and Marco breathed in deeply, taking in the late summer air. For once, he was content.

"You know," Jean said after a while. "Everyone thinks we're dating."

"We aren't?" Marco said, somewhat hurt.

This time it was Jean's turn to laugh. It was short and harsh, but it was music to Marco's ears. "I guess we are. So many people have been gossiping behind our back. It's embarrassing. Should we just make it official now?"

Marco stood up. His heart was starting to pound, but he wasn't scared. "Do... you want it to be official?"

Jean looked at him, his gaze soft in a way that made Marco's heart flutter. "Fuck yes."

Without thinking about it, Marco stepped closer. Jean met him halfway, and they stood there for several moments, mere inches apart, staring into each other's eyes. Finally, Marco couldn't stand it anymore, and he slowly reached up, cupping Jean's face in his hands. Jean wrapped his arms around Marco's waist, and they leaned towards each other.

They kissed far more passionately than Marco expected, and he was completely fine with that. They kissed tenderly, and Jean's hands slid up Marco's back and dug into him in a way that made him shiver. They eventually parted, and Marco licked his lips, as if to get a taste of Jean that still lingered there.

"You know," he said softly, "You haven't given me that painting yet."

Jean blushed. "Do... you want it now?"

"Sure. Let's go back to your place." Marco leaned forward and whispered into Jean's ear, "I want to be your model."

Jean was still blushing as they walked back to the apartment together, their hands tenderly intertwined. For the first time since he was nine years old, Marco felt at peace.

**Author's Note:**

> Holy shit this ended up a lot longer than I expected.
> 
> I intended this to be just a oneshot, but this got really long and I left so many things hanging, I might continue it someday. Leave comments and tell me what you think! :D
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr over [here](http://nukac0la.tumblr.com/).


End file.
